Her Haunted Mansion : Emily's Journey
by DixieMame
Summary: A prequel and sequel to Her Haunted Mansion,see how Pluto, Goofy, Donald and Daisy came to live with Master Mickey at his mansion.Each time,a young woman spots the strange master,and becomes involved in his web of horrors. When will she be next?
1. Pluto

_Welcome to the first chapter of 'Her Haunted Mansion : Emily's Journey'. A prequel and sequel to 'Her Haunted Mansion', we get a first hand look at how Pluto, Goofy, Donald and Daisy came to live with Master Mickey at his mansion. Each time, a young woman spots the strange master, and does everything in her power to try and stop him. What is the connection between Emily and Mickey? Can she stop him, or will she become part of his family?_

_ There's blood and slight gore here, so watch out. The next chapter will be about Goofy._

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><p>My name is Emily. I won't bother giving you a last name… for some reason, my first name stays the same, but when it comes to my last name, it changes every time I… well, I'll get to that in a moment. I'd rather start at the beginning. That's how most stories start, don't they? And I don't think you'd believe me if I just blurted everything right away. So we'll start with my first life… or at least, the earliest one I can remember. With the way things have been going, I wouldn't be surprised if I've managed to block some lifetimes out.<p>

My apologies, I'm rambling. Now, my first life was in a very small village that lived next to a forest. Winter took up most of our time, and there was snow on the ground more often than grass. My mother died giving birth to me, so it was just me and my father. He made a living raising hunting dogs, and selling their puppies. I helped out every chance I could get, and I loved each dog like they were a member of the family. I always believed that whenever we sold a dog, the owner would take excellent care of them.

Every year, it got colder, and the crops became harder to manage. Those who could hunt the wildlife of the forest became the richest folks in town. We came to desperately depend on them, and I was constantly worried about how we would manage to feed our dogs. When I was twelve, the best hunter in the village came knocking to our door. His name was Johan, and he stood as tall and thick as any tree in the forest. I always felt I had to lean back in order to see his entire bearded face. I answered the door, and father came up behind me, happy to see Johan. Johan had never bought one of our dogs before, but he told us his oldest hound had recently died. He was interested in buying one of our puppies, and was willing to pay any price.

Father led him out back, and I quietly followed them. We had many puppies that were ready to be purchased, and we were keeping them with their mother in a small little doghouse in the backyard. They scampered around as we came close, happy to see us and nipping playfully at our heels. Johan laughed deeply, shaking his black beard back and forth, and complimented us on raising such healthy animals. He picked up the one closest to him, and cradled him in his big, strong arms. "Yes, this one will do very well." Even his voice was strong, and commanded attention from all around.

Though I trusted Johan, as I had trusted everyone who had bought our dogs before, I spoke up as I had a small request. "Are you going to name him, sir?" I always insisted on hearing the owners name their dogs before they left, as if to officially start the pups on their new life.

He looked down at me, and shared another belly shaking laugh. "I have never been too good with names, little miss… why don't you give him one?"

I liked Johan a little more for that. I looked at the puppy in his hands, and though the puppies had no names yet, I knew them all apart. This was the youngest of the litter, and his bright fur made him often made him stand out in the snow. He was the most playful of the bunch, and even though I knew I shouldn't have a bias against any of them, he was definitely my favorite. I reached up to stroke his long black ears, and he licked my fingers, yipping merrily. It was difficult to imagine him as growing up into something as big and burly as a hunter, but I wanted to have faith in him. My education wasn't great, but I recalled the great dog beast that guarded the gate to the underworld in some books I had read. The names got mixed up in my head, so I said the first one that came to mind. "Pluto. He'll grow up into a great, big Pluto."

"Pluto!" Johan laughed once more, and the newly dubbed pup rolled over in his arms, enjoying the shaking sensation. "Such a creative miss you have there, my friend… she will make a fine wife someday." I blushed, and kept my eyes on Pluto, not knowing how to handle such a compliment. I was happy that Pluto would live with such a kind man. There were papers to sign and money to exchange, and soon enough Johan and Pluto had left. I missed the young pup deeply, but I tried to console myself with the knowledge that he was in good hands.

A year passed before I would see Pluto again. The winters had gotten worse, and less people were coming to us to buy our dogs. We began to worry that we wouldn't be able to feed our latest litters. When the latest batch was born, father told me to go see Johan and see if I could persuade him to purchase another pup. I eagerly took on the job, delighted that I would get to see my little Pluto again. Johan had brought plenty of wildlife to the village, so Pluto must have been doing a good job. I snuck a bone into my dress as a treat for him and followed father's directions.

I had never been to Johan's house before, and was surprised at its humble simplicity. It only occurred to me now that he lived alone, save for the dogs he bought every now and then. How lonely he must have been, I thought, and in my youthful naivety, I thought about how he had said I would make a fine wife. Perhaps someday I could join him in this house… Johan, me, and Pluto, one happy family. These romantic thoughts swam in my head until I got closer to the wooden house as a horrid smell met my nose. I had to cover up my nose with my hands, and bile began to rise in my throat. Curiosity overrode common sense, so instead of knocking on his door, I tried to find the source of the smell. Perhaps I could dispose of it, and Johan would compliment me.

The smell led me to the back of his house, where a horrifying sight awaited me. Strewn across the snow where corpses of old dogs, their blood soaked fur now crisp and crackling when hungry flies swarmed over them. Rusty chains held the dead bodies in place, and my vision blurred as I tried not to vomit at the combined sight and smell. Amidst the buzzing of the flies and the screams in my head, I began to hear a faint whine, and I realized one of these dogs was still alive. Chained up to the side of the house was Pluto, my precious Pluto, beaten and bruised within an inch of his life, with labored breathing that caused him additional pain just to exist. I could see his ribs poking out in his once golden colored fur, and I let out the screams I had been holding in.

I ran to him and took him in my arms, sobbing apologies and rocking him back and forth in a desperate lullaby. He opened his eyes, and I could see recognition there. He faintly licked my fingers, and I wept and wept for him. Ignoring the smell as best I could, I desperately tugged at his chains as best I could, but I could not free him. I even took out the bone and smacked it against the chains in a fruitless effort. I did not stop until the bone was forcibly snatched out of my hands, and I looked up to see Johan leering above me.

"Little miss," he spoke, as cheery and friendly as when I had let him into my house. "What are you doing here?"

"What have you done to him!" I screeched, hugging Pluto around his neck. "What have you done to all of them! He's going to die!" Pluto's cries had died down and his body began to tremble in the presence of his master. These were shakes of fright, and I couldn't help but to share his fear of this large, powerful man.

"Dogs need discipline in order to become great hunters. This is not a place for little girls to play." He grabbed me by the shoulder, and his grip was so tight that even my bones began to shriek internally. "Go on home, my little dog wife. This one should still last me a long time." He then pulled me back hard, and I was forced to release Pluto. I moved to grab Pluto again, but Johan grabbed my hand, and made me rise to my feet. I became afraid of what he would do to me, and I frantically kicked at his leg until he let me go. I then ran as fast as my feet could take me, tripping every so often and eventually I wound up vomiting on my front lawn. The smell stayed with me, and I stayed on the snow, sobbing and retching at what I had seen. I blamed myself for putting Pluto in such danger, and I thought even then I could hear his pitiful whines.

When father found me, I told him of what I had experienced, and begged him to take Pluto back. Father would not hear of it, more concerned about our money than for the life of one dog. But I could not stand to leave Pluto with such a terrible man. That night, when I was sure father was asleep, I crawled out of bed, and grabbed a knife from the kitchen. The plan was to use the knife to cut Pluto's chains, and perhaps defend ourselves if Johan awoke. It was a very cold night, colder than many past winters had given us. I held myself tightly as the wind blew, and when I came to Johan's house, a strange sight was there to greet me.

In front of his mouse was a black carriage, with no riders but two horses just as black as the carriage. The horses were still, so very still, it was as if they were not breathing, but they must have been alive for their startling red eyes shone with life. The carriage itself was undecorated, with sharp horns poking out from different angles. I watched the carriage for any sign of someone inside. Maybe someone had stopped to buy or trade the animals Johan had hunted. I decided to risk the chance of being seen, and quickly made my way to where the dead dogs laid, and held my breath in anticipation of the smell. Once more I was taken by surprise, because Pluto was not alone.

By Pluto's side, kneeling in the snow, was a short man – a short mouse, once I got a better look at him, since it was impossible to ignore his large ears and that thin tail. He was dressed in the fanciest attire I had ever seen, with the richest of reds and the harshest of blacks. Yellow and black spiderwebs layered his robes, and a single golden bat-like figure rested on his top hat. He was dressed thinly, which was suicide in such a cold village. Yet he never shook or showed any indication that he might even be chilly. He stroked the top of Pluto's head gently, taking his fingers along Pluto's slim ears. "That's a good boy." He murmured, and now I could see Pluto gratefully chewing on a withered piece of dried meat. "And you'll get much more like it. Accept my invitation, and ya won't even remember what it's like ta be hungry."

His voice was very smooth, but while it was calming Pluto, it had the opposite effect on me. There was something terribly wrong with this man, but I could not put it into words. There was just a wrongness about him, a fear he created solely by presence. I wanted to speak up, I wanted to say he could not take my Pluto, but words would not form in my mouth. It felt like the more I looked at him, the closer I came to darkness. The wind was picking up, but my body was becoming numb to the cold. The moonlight shone over the man, and his shadow seemed to swallow Pluto whole in its size. Pluto licked the man's fingers, and he chuckled. "I guess that means yes. That's a good boy." He stood up, and now I could see his eyes – as scarlet as those eerie horses at the carriage.

Pluto went still for a brief moment, and then, with no more trembles to his limbs, stood up as well. He didn't make a sound, and his breathing settled into a more healthy state. He blinked once – and then his eyes became that same shade of unnatural red. His fur began to glisten healthily, and his muscles tightened and fattened, bruises fading off into the night. I dropped my knife as I saw the change occur, and it caught the attention of both the man and what I thought was my pup. Their similar eyes bore into me as if they could see through my body. It was a colder look than any wind had brushed by me. That was not my dog anymore. I didn't know what it was, but it was not my Pluto.

"Yer a lil' early." The man spoke, faintly amused. "But there's always room for one more." The snow did not even crunch under his feet as he began taking carefully slow steps towards me. Pluto began to copy his movements, and a new stench overrode my senses. It wasn't just the smell of the dead – it was the smell of the event of dying, of skin rotting and fluids fermenting. I couldn't breathe, and the wind picked up even harsher. "How's about it, Emily?" He plucked out a small envelope from within his jacket, and flicked it back and forth in his fingers. "Will ya accept my invitation?"

I don't know what made my strength return, but before he could take one more step towards me, my legs came alive, jerking around and making me flee from that awful place. I could still feel those eyes staring at me as I ran, and I was horrified at the idea that they were chasing me, though I heard no footsteps. I didn't know what they were, and I didn't want to know. That was not my dog. That was not my Pluto. I made it home, and I threw myself onto my bed, telling myself it had only been a nightmare. Surely the next night I would go and save Pluto. I would take him away from all the terrible men in this village, Johan and that red eyed demon. I chanted it over and over into my pillow, and never slept.

Hours after the sun had risen, there was a harsh banging on our front door. I was scared that it could be the red eyed man, but then I heard Johan yelling. He was furious and roaring at the top of his lungs, calling us thieves and liars. Father and I opened the door together, and Johan stormed into the house, demanding compensation for the murder of his dog. He claimed that Pluto had died that night, and he held up the knife that I had dropped that very night. He accused me of killing Pluto, and demanded retribution. I argued that I would never harm Pluto. "You probably killed him!" I yelled right back, fresh tears spilling on my cheeks. "Just like you killed all the others!"

Father said he had no idea of how he was supposed to compensate for what had happened, trying to push me aside and silence me. "We have little money, and our dogs are not fit to hunt yet. There's nothing we can possibly give you."

Johan's once kind eyes turned ugly as he now looked at me, and the laughter I had once admired from him was cruel now as it left his moving belly. "Did I not say she would make a fine wife some day? Some day has come at last, my friend!" He tried to grab my arm, and father shoved him, saying I was far too young to marry. I became frightened for my father's safety, as when Johan went back into his roaring yells, he waved the knife around, now ordering father to hand me over.

"I won't let you kill my father like you killed Pluto!" I grabbed for his wrist, trying to wrestle the knife out of his muscular hand. "Pluto, my Pluto!" I hollered his name over and over, and Johan tried to fend me off with a harsh movement of his hand. I don't think he intended to harm me, since he so wanted me as a bride, but the knife found its way into my neck. There was screaming, and my vision distorted as I fell onto the floor. I could not speak, and it's here where my memory begins to blur as life bled out of me. But there is one clear thing I do remember before it was over.

I saw the red-eyed man in the doorway, looking down at me, with Pluto at his side. I tried to warn father about him, but all I could do was gasp and gurgle more blood. The man smiled at me, and though I could not hear him, I know he spoke.

"See ya next time, Emily."

And that was the first time I died.

**End of Chapter One.**


	2. Goofy

_Again, slight blood and gore, so watch out. Next chapter will deal with Donald and Daisy. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p>I can understand that what I've told you so far is entirely unbelievable. I can't really blame you, but we've come this far, so I might as well keep going. In my next life, I was born in a flourishing kingdom at the bottom of a beautiful mountainside. For all of the riches and happiness the kingdom bestowed upon its people, there was always unsteadiness on the faces of the people. We were constantly at war with a neighboring kingdom, and neither side would accept anything but complete and total surrender. We were sure our side would win someday, but every day came with its bloody loses from outside our protective walls. It was the hardship no one dared to speak of.<p>

My family spoke of it even less, for I was born into a line that was favored and spoiled by the royals. I was not educated, but I was very clever, and my skills of conversation earned me favors with the king and queen. The queen died during childbirth when I had reached my twenties, and since the child didn't survive either, there was an urgent need for the king to remarry. At the same time, our side of the battle had begun to weaken, and his highness was at a loss for how to keep the spirits of his soldiers up. That day, I came to his side, and brushed his hair from his face. "They must see who they fight for." I told him, kneeling at his side of the throne. "Go see your brave warriors, and help them fight for their king."

He gazed at me with warm eyes, and clasped my tiny hand in his strong grasp. "Come with me, Lady Emily. If they know they are fighting to protect such a beautiful woman, surely that will erase all doubt from their hearts." Naturally flattered, I accepted, and the next dawn we rode our horses out of the kingdom. The soldiers were camped outside of the walls, weary and exhausted. Their eyes had sunken into their skills, and some had long since stopped bothering to wash the blood off of their clothes. Yet as we rode among them, their eyes lit up, and they realized who was in their presence. Every man stood to attention.

His Highness rode to a stop, and addressed his men. He praised their skills, and commended them on their protection of the people thus far. On and on he gave them good graces, and I was so caught up in his magnificent speech that I didn't realize he had addressed me as his queen until the men started to kneel down towards me. I grabbed the king's arm, wanting to confirm what had happened, and he smiled so beautifully at me. "When this war is done," he announced, "I will make Lady Emily my bride." Loud cheering erupted from the men, banging their swords against their shields in celebration. I blushed deeply, and bowed my head in gratitude.

Admits the cheers, one soldier stepped out from the crowd, and held out wrapped pieces of bread and cut meat. He was a tall and lanky dog of a man, not portraying much intelligence from his appearance, but his smile was kind and earnest. "If ya will pardon me, yer highness... I mean, soon ta be highness…" His words stumbled out from his large front buck teeth, showing that he had no doubt been raised in the poorest part of the kingdom. No doubt he had been forced to join as a man so destitute had no other alternative. "I know this ain't much, but it's all I got, and every lady needs an engagement present."

His simple charm humbled me, and I brought my horse in closer so I could kiss the top of his head. "You have my thanks, good sir, but keep your rations." His entire face turned red from that one touch, and he kept his eyes to the ground. Though he looked to be an adult, one could guess this as his first contact with a woman, and I found myself endeared towards such a naïve spirit. "Would you give me your name?"

He mumbled incoherently, shyness now controlling his tongue. Other soldiers laughed at his humility, and one shouted over the noise. "We call him Goofy, Lady Emily! He's won us more fights by sheer dumb luck than when he has ever tried!" More laughter burst forward, as many were eager to share tales of the dog's failures and clumsiness. 'Goofy' did not seem to be offended, but I was still bothered all the same. I wanted to object to the teasing, but the King interrupted me, saying that he and I would make camp with the soldiers and watch over their progress. I was led away, somewhat unsettled, but resigned myself to my temporary home and tried to welcome sleep.

Every night for as long as I could remember, I had unsettling dreams of my past life. Of course, I never thought of it as my past life, and merely saw them as terrible nightmares. I had consulted many doctors over the years, but nothing ever cured these night terrors. By the time I slept in the camp, I had reluctantly accepted these dreams as part of my life. I thought maybe they were affected by the constant war and the fear of death. I told myself that when the war ended, maybe so would the nightmares. I did not trouble my king with these visions.

Our presence did greatly for our soldiers, as they went out to battle with pride and returned with stories of victories. Three days into our stay, they returned dragging back an enemy soldier they had captured. A unanimous decision rose that they would publically execute the prisoner the following morning as a symbol of future domination to the other kingdom. I was troubled by such a display, but it appeared I was the only one who thought that way, so I kept silent. I was only a woman, and I did not understand the mind of a fighting man. The prisoner was thrown into a cage and I retired to bed early.

As always, I tossed and turned as I saw visions of my dear dead dog and the mouse with hellfire eyes. I clawed at my neck, desperate to pull out the blade that wasn't there. When I gave up on sleep for that night, the entire camp had already taken rest. I silently snuck out of my tent, not wishing to disturb my future husband. I aimlessly wandered around, unsure of what to do, and then I spotted a familiar shadow moving across the ground. It belonged to Goofy, and I recalled that he was one of the men who were tasked to guard the cage of the prisoner. Since his spirit was so gentle, I decided to seek him out so I could share my troubling dreams.

At the cage, Goofy sat in front of the prisoner, and a sobbing sound stopped my steps. With the clamor of battle down for the night, both Goofy and I could see that this enemy was nearly a child, a barely blossoming teenager. Our enemy kingdom was so desperate for total victory that they were using every last available man for battle, even if they weren't entirely a man yet. This boy was crying, his head ducked into his chest, fearing his fate come the morn and moaning for his mother. Tears of my own began to well up in my eyes, and I could not help but wonder how many boys of this ilk my kind had killed.

Goofy felt the same pity, reaching into the cage and tenderly stroking the boy's hair. He could find no words that would bring comfort, and so the boy continued to whine for his mother. I could not tell you how long the three of us were like that - me, hiding in the shadows, the boy shaking in his tears, and Goofy attending to him in the way a loving father would. It felt like eternity until Goofy pulled his hand back, and rose to his feet. He pulled out his sword from the scabbard at his hip, and in a swift, hard motion, banged his sword on the lock of the cage. Startled, the boy fell quiet as Goofy continued to attack the lock until it finally fell off. When the deed was done, Goofy dropped his sword and pulled the cage door open, still not saying a thing.

The boy waited a moment, fearing a trick. When it became obvious this had been done with honest intent, the boy scrambled out of the cage, falling into the dirt and then just as quickly getting to his feet and breaking off into a run. Amazingly, no one had heard any of this noise. I took this as a sign of destiny, and walked out of my accidental hiding place. Only now did Goofy notice me, and I could not blame him for looking instantly frightened. He knelt down at once, and his hick voice faltered for an explanation of his actions. I smiled as gently as I could, and held out a hand to silence him. "At ease, good sir. I have witnessed an act of utmost kindness, and I have no wish to punish it."

He raised his head, surprised by my mercy, and returned my smile. "Aw… well… I've seen plenty a' kids like that back in the kingdom, and… just didn't seem right. Kinda makes ya think about this whole thing." He came to his feet, and since I was not on my horse this time, I could see just how tall he truly was. "I think our kingdom's pretty great already… dunno why we need more land or anythin'. And… if they're so bad off, they gotta use kiddos to fight… they just might need more help." He shrugged helplessly, not knowing if his words made sense. "Just… I dunno. I don't like fightin'." He stopped himself, and I could see a flicker of fear in his eyes again, as if I would be offended by his thoughts.

"You are wise beyond your years, good sir." It didn't feel right to call him by the derogatory nickname, but at the same time, it felt odd to now ask for his real name. "I will bring your words to the king… and, perhaps, we can reach a new path with less bloodshed to leave behind." That brightened his face and since I was already so comfortable with him, I decided to do as I originally intended, and shared the nature of my dreams. The description left him chilled, and he offered a hand of sympathy to squeeze.

"I dunno much about dreams," He replied when I had finished. "But… ya got a lot comin' up on yer plate, that's fer sure. The whole battle, and now becomin' a queen… 's a lot of pressure on a little lady. But I ain't ever heard of someone havin' the same dream their entire life… and ya gotta years left in ya! And I betcha some of those nights are gunna have nice dreams. There's way too many nights out there, and they can't all be bad." He tilted his head to a side, not sure if he made sense but it was all he could come up with.

His optimism was contagious, and I thanked him. If such a man could have good faith in my future, why couldn't I? "Had my place been different, perhaps I would have been fortunate enough to be your bride instead." I enjoyed the flustered reaction that got out of him, and I mentally noted that when the war was over, I would ensure his life would be good and rich, wanting for nothing. We then bid each other good night, and I began to return to my camp, pleased with how the night had gone. All of that pleasure vanished when I opened my tent and looked at my bed.

There on my bed sat the mouse with the red eyes, the red clothes, and the smile that was at once both happy and dark. He was exactly from my dreams, not a stitch out of place. He looked at me as he had been awaiting my return, playfully kicking his small feet over the side of my bed. He did not speak, and yet I heard his voice, as the full force of my dreams began to play in my head. I smelled the corpses of the dogs, heard the hoof beats of the unnatural carriage, and felt blood spewing from my neck. I could not breathe, and I knew, I just knew, that he was amused by my fright. I wanted to scream, and I shut my eyes, but when I opened them, he was gone. He had never been there.

I stood there for a long time and stared at my empty bed. What had I just seen? Was he there, or were the weight of my dreams beginning to affect my waking life? I did not want to touch my bed, as I felt it was now dirtied by his touch. I slept on the cold ground, trembling as I entered a deep sleep. I prayed that Goofy was right, and that one day soon, I would be in a state of sleep without the mouse's eyes following me. What insane symbol or pressure on my life did that being represent?

The following morning I was not woken by my terrors, but by the roars of the soldiers. I struggled to stand up, as sleeping on the ground had done pain to my back. As I staggered out of my tent, I saw the soldiers were gathered around a man strung up against horse, bloody and beaten to a pulp. I instantly recognized the attacked man as Goofy, and a tired scream escaped my lips. The soldiers were throwing stones at him, calling him a traitor, and all Goofy could do was forcibly stand and take it, tears dribbling down his cheeks as it mixed with his blood. Not a shred of mercy was given to him, and no one would listen to my shrieks. I ordered them to stop, I grabbed their arms and pulled, but I was ignored in favor of bloodlust.

Then I saw the soldiers begin to part the crowd as their king stepped forward. Here, I believed, salvation! My gracious king, my future husband, he would save Goofy. But my seconds of hope were diminished as I saw the rage in the king's face, echoing the looks of the furious soldiers all around him. He approached Goofy, and grabbed him by the throat. "A traitor is the worst kind of man!" He declared, visibly choking my friend. "Tomorrow, you will take the escaped prisoner's place, and it will be your execution to drive us forward!" This rallied a cheer from the soldiers, and another scream from me.

I pushed through the men and tugged at my fiancé's robes, begging him to spare Goofy's life. But instead of heeding to my advice as he usually did, he pushed me aside, and told me this was not my place to interfere. Again I tried to speak to him, trying to share Goofy's wisdom, but the king believed my 'womanly sentiments' were blocking my eyes. He ordered the men to take me back to the tent, and I was dragged away, wailing over the loss of such a good man. Goofy hung his head, ashamed that I had to see him in such a state, and that only made me cry harder. I was not allowed to leave the tent for the entire day, which was just as well, for all I could do was cry.

When night fell, I dared to venture out, and since the soldiers were also sleeping, no one was guarding me. Even if I could not save Goofy's life, I wanted to see him one more time and apologize for being unable to aid him. I knew he would be at the same cage as the boy once was, but when I arrived, I saw that Goofy was not alone. The one who was with him… the sight alone was enough to bring me to my knees.

The mouse, that damned mouse, he stood before the cage, holding onto one of the bars and talking to Goofy. I could not say it was my imagination only anymore, as Goofy clearly saw him and exchanged words with him. I struggled to hear them, clutching my chest in a disjointed effort to control my harsh breathing. On the mouse's shoulder was a raven, black as fresh ash, but carrying the same eye color as the one he perched on. There was a familiarity to this bird that I could not name – or perhaps to name it would have been the final push into madness.

"I need a good man ta guard my home." The mouse gestured here and there, keeping Goofy's attention rapt. "And someone like yerself is perfect for the job… I know ya can tell to keep the wrong people out, and let the good people in. Accept my invitation, and you'll see a lot less fightin'."

'Accept my invitation'. That was what this mouse had said to Pluto, my Pluto. I felt the same feelings all over again – that while his voice was calm, it was just wrong to hear, like a spider spinning thread should not make noise. Everything about him was wrong, just wrong, a wrong I could not speak of or describe but I felt within every bone of my body. I pulled my eyes away from him, and looked at Goofy, whose eyes were changing colors. Hadn't the same happened to Pluto? I choked out, trying to object, but all I could eject from my mouth was a gasp.

It was enough to get their attention, as all three heads – mouse, dog, raven – looked at me. The moment the mouse saw me, I could smell it again – that scent of not just the dead, but the very act of dying. Though the weather had been warm every night, a chill wind was picking up, and I trembled weakly. With his size, I could have easily shoved him over, and yet I was completely at his mercy, terrified for every moment he looked at me. "Early again!" He chuckled, rubbing his fingers against his chest. "Well, I'm just about done here anyway. How's about it, Emily?"

I knew what he would say next and I found courage to interrupt. "No! No, I won't accept your invitation!" I cried out, clutching myself tightly. "Leave me be!" Not just now, but forever, I wanted him to leave my dreams and let me live in place, whoever or whatever this demonic thing was. This was the extent of my bravery, as I could no longer bare to look at him or hear his words, rushing to my feet and fleeing back to my tent. All thoughts of Goofy were gone, and I was selfishly wrapped up in my own well being. None of that could have been real, I vehemently said to myself as I clutched my pillow once I thought I was safe. I merely dreamed again, an extended dream that contained my good friend Goofy. I feared for his life, so to dream of him was only natural.

I don't know how I slept, but I had to in order to wake up the next day. When I did, the first thing I saw was the shadow of the kind overlapping my small body. He stood before the bed, and offered his hand for me to rise. Though he said nothing, I knew he was going to make me witness Goofy's execution, perhaps as a way of punishing me for my earlier impudence. I knew I had no choice in the matter, so I took his hand and fought my tears. We left the tent together, and the king opened his mouth to speak.

An arrow pierced his skull, through his forehead, and he dropped dead in front of me.

I looked up to the sky, and saw a rain of arrows fly at our camp. Looking back at this lifetime, it's possible that the escaped prisoner gave an exact location to our enemies so they could attack us so closely and early. I could only think of that in other lifetimes, for in this one, I was given no time to think. In the seconds following my king's death, an arrow struck me in my right eye. I fell beside my king, deaf to my own shrieks. Once more, as I began to die, as more arrows entered my body, my memory begins to blur. Once more, there is one thing I remember perfectly.

I saw the red-eyed man walking away, with Goofy at his side and the same raven perched on his shoulder. Goofy's wounds were gone, and he was casually exchanging pleasantries, his eyes now carrying the same shade of red. Just like Pluto. Just like the raven. Just like this man. That man saw me, and I could not hear him, but I am forever certain what he said.

"See ya next time, Emily."

And that was the second time I died.

**End of Chapter Two.**


	3. Donald and Daisy

_Again, slight blood and gore, so watch out. Next chapter will deal with Minnie. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p>So by now you're starting to see a sort of pattern emerge, correct? Perhaps that will make my story as a whole more believable. Unfortunately, the tragedy still has plenty to go on. After all, you wouldn't be reading this if you didn't find want it to end too quickly. My suffering is a part of the enjoyment. I digress.<p>

My third lifetime had me born and raised in a city that was beginning to bloom with industry. Every year the neighboring forest was chopped down little by little to make way for progress. My rank in society was not too high nor too low – I wasn't a pitiful commoner but I still had to work to earn a living. Education was still unequal between the sexes, so my forced dream career was a tutor. I would go to the homes of elegant rich daughters and teach them enough so that they didn't look like a moron when they talked at parties. I rarely complained because the pay was good, and I would often myself enamored with the young women I got to teach. My favorite – and final – student was named Daisy.

When it came to high society, it was difficult to get higher than Daisy and her family. I felt overwhelmed just by looking at their home, and it took effort just to get my feet inside. I felt it was a very lonely house, for every step I took echoed across the many rooms. The only people I saw within that first day were Daisy and her father, and the latter left for business once the payment negotiations were over. I got the impression that her father was the kind who always put business before pleasure, but I didn't dare speak of it. Daisy, on the other hand, burst to life the moment her father was out of the room.

She was a very pretty thing, with pretty eyes and pretty feathers, and had she been smaller, she could have been mistaken for the kind of doll I longed for as a child. She wasn't terribly bright, but then, that was what I was here for. We exchanged quick pleasantries, and then I set straight to work. I began taking out several books, ready to start off her lessons. Most girls I had taught would sit still and be quiet as I readied myself and be obedient to my every command. Daisy was not like most girls.

"Are you married?" She asked before I had even flipped to the first page. Typically when one woman asked another this question, it was nearly catty, and I was at an age where a ring should have been on my finger quite a few years ago. But Daisy was genuinely curious, striking up a conversation, and gazing up at me expectantly.

Though I could sense her good intent, I was still flustered at the sudden invasion of privacy. "Ah… no, I'm not."

"That's a shame, you're so lovely." She cocked her head to a side, thoroughly examining me. "You know, you would look very nice with your hair down. That bun doesn't do you any justice. Come now, take it down!" It seems I didn't have any say in this, as she stood up, and on her tippy-toes, reached up to weave her fingers through my hair. "There!"She triumphantly announced when my long hair fell at my shoulders. "Oh yes, so much better. How was I supposed to pay any attention when you don't pay attention to your own looks?"

Somehow she became the teacher, and began to instruct me on how to better improve my looks and fashion sense. I couldn't get mad at her because I knew every action she took was made with her best intentions in mind. We easily went into conversations outside of class, talking of our everyday lives while time flew fast. She was bubbly and delightful, and I found myself adoring her as one would an excitable little sister. I was actually reluctant to leave when her father returned, and I noticed how quiet and withdrawn she became when he made himself known. I would return in a few days for a follow up lesson… well, really, the first lesson. We hadn't gotten a single thing accomplished that day, aside from sparking up a friendship.

As I stood on her front steps, I was ready to put my hair back up in my traditional bun, but decided against it. When I walked home that day, it appeared as though Daisy's advice that more wisdom than I gave her credit for, as I could feel the interested gaze of several men I passed. I couldn't find the will to speak to any of them, but my confidence had gotten a significant raise. I began looking forward to seeing Daisy again, though I would try to put up a bigger fight to actually teach her something. Even the usual nightmares had a difficult time erasing my good spirit… though they did succeed.

Yes, I had the nightmares again in this lifetime. This time, I relived both my time as the naïve dog breeder and the doomed queen. Every night I would be forced to encounter the man in red, and I desperately wanted to believe they were nothing more than nightmares. In this life, I never spoke of them to anyone, for fear I would be locked up in a madhouse. Yet for so long I was terrified that the man in red would come and bring death to myself and those I cared for. What did he want? Why was he after me?

I never shared these feelings with Daisy. It was the only thing I never told her, for in the weeks of my visits to her, we shared everything else. She continued to give me advice about how to live more comfortable with my appearance, and every so often I managed to squeeze in a lesson. But when the seasons began to change, so would our lives. Summer was chilling into fall when I noticed a new picture frame resting on her mantle. I picked it up as I entered the room, and saw it was a photograph of a rather handsome duck, donned mostly in green with a grin that looked a little condescending. I inquired about him, and she replied with an odd dullness in her voice "That's Gladstone Gander, my fiancé."

I nearly dropped the frame in surprise. She had never mentioned a fiancé before! I hastily returned the frame back to its place and rushed to congratulate her. However, her enthusiasm was non-existent. The usual cheeriness I had come to associate with her was dampened as I tried to ask for information about him. "My father introduced us last week. We're to be married before winter. He's very nice." She only stated the facts, and portrayed no emotion in them. I could bring no joy into this context, and so I changed the subject, and she easily enough sprung to life. We walked for hours, and though I was curious as to why she wasn't happy with Gladstone, I decided to leave it be for now.

It was time for afternoon tea when I heard an odd rattling at the windows. I figured it was the wind and ignored it, but Daisy once again changed. This time, her cheeks flushed a radiant pink, and she stared at the window expectantly. She seemed to forget I was there, hastily shoving her teacup aside, smoothing down her dress, and then quickly getting up out of her seat, aiming for the window. She then stopped, remembering she wasn't alone and uneasily looked back at me. Embarrassed, she unsteadily sat back down, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "Um. It's… probably nothing."

I couldn't help but smirk at how terrible a liar she was. I placed my own cup aside and took to the window to see what the problem was. I opened the window, and saw that someone had been throwing small pebbles at it. Looking down, I saw a young man roughly Daisy's age, but aside from being another duck, they were hardly alike. He was absolutely filthy, the most common of the commoners, his clothes a tattered rag and many of his feathers dusty black with soot. He had been about to throw another pebble when he realized he would have struck me, and dropped it sheepishly. "Good afternoon!" He squawked, his voice nearly unintelligible. "Can I… wash your windows, miss?"

I recognized his type, the one who would do any odd job, and from the rank smell of him I could guess he had been through three dumpsters and two chimneys already. I couldn't have such a ruffian interfering with my lesson, but it didn't feel right to reject him with nothing. "These aren't my windows. Now, move along." I managed to fish out a coin from my purse, and lightly tossed it his way. I didn't bother to see if he had caught it, closing the window and returning to my seat. Daisy had been watching the interaction, and still stared at the window, stirring her tea with her index finger. I had to clear my throat three times to get her attention.

"He's harmless, really." She explained as she met my questioning gaze. "He comes around every once in a while, and I let him clean up. His name is Donald. Isn't he nice?" At once I noticed a difference from the 'Gladstone' nice and 'Donald' nice. Before, she had merely told me Gladstone was nice, an indifferent fact that everyone knew. But with Donald, she readily believed he was nice, and really wanted to make me believe the same. I was uncomfortable at the difference in social classes, but at the same time, I didn't want to change Daisy's happy tone. I managed to sway the conversation into other matters, but every so often she would return her fond gaze at the window.

When I left that day, Donald was gone, but I thought of him as I walked. It was quite obvious Daisy had an infatuation with him, but I tried to reassure myself that it was a simple crush. Perhaps Donald didn't even return his feelings, and Daisy was young, she had plenty of time to get over it and enjoy Gladstone's company. I was so wrapped up in these thoughts that I didn't watch where I was going, and I bumped into a police officer. I apologized profusely, but he didn't mind, and to add onto my humility, he was a very handsome young man. Daisy's beauty tips worked their charm, and not five minutes had passed before we knew each other's names – he was Keith – and he asked to see me over the weekend. Delighted at being courted, I pushed Donald and Daisy out of my mind for days, and only allowed my nightmares to trouble me.

With such happiness around me, I told myself that there was no reason for the man in red to ever see me when I was awake. Those previous lives were archaic and barbaric, but this was the age of civilized men. I had no reason to die young, nor did anyone around me. After every nightmare, I became foolishly arrogant, and declared to no one that my life was perfect. There was nothing he could do to me, and I would rebel against him by living happily and keeping those I cared for happy. He couldn't give that damn invitation to those who wanted nothing to change. Perhaps it was this arrogance that helped rush my fate.

The oncoming fall was filled with rain. Despite the gloominess that rain tends to bring, many of my dates with Keith had been during the rain, so I came to treasure it. I was looking forward to seeing Daisy and telling her of my romantic rendezvous, but as I walked towards her house that day, I heard a light 'caw' from a lamppost I had just passed. Crows were a rare sight in the city, so I turned to look at the bird, faintly amused. But as soon as I saw it, I knew it not to be a crow, for it was a raven, with unholy familiar eyes. The same eyes that my dear Pluto, my dear Goofy, that man in the red carried – the blood red that spoke of my nightmares. I stared at it, and it stared at me.

There was no mistake, this was the raven from my night terrors. I couldn't breathe, and the world moved slowly around me. Was this a sign of things to come? Was death really this close? It was tempting to given into my fears and run away like a madwoman, as I had the other lifetimes. But now I was prideful – my life was happy, and nothing could ruin it. Though I was still afraid, I tightened my grip around my umbrella, and smacked it against the lamppost. The bird fluttered around, and then took off, and I watched it until it was gone from my line of vision. I may have looked ridiculous there, starting to get wet, striking a lamppost with my umbrella in order to startle off a bird, but I didn't care. To me, it was a sign of defiance. I would live my life fully, to the happiest, and to hell with those with red eyes. I relished in my small victory before I realized I was running late for my lesson, and so I resumed my walk.

Donald had taken advantage of my short absence. I saw him as I came around the corner, standing in the rain and chatting up a storm with Daisy at her window. I couldn't hear them, but their faces were sheerest happiness, occasionally letting their fingers touch and I was forced to admit that I had never seen Daisy as gleeful as she was with him. The boy was humble with his affection, grateful just to be seen with her, while Daisy enjoyed coy laughter and flirting touches to his beak. They were wrapped up in their own little world, probably assuming that the rain would mean less people to catch them. Wasn't it my duty as tutor to protect her?

I slowly approached the two, and lightly called Daisy's name to get their equal attention. They could have jumped right out of their feathers, they were so surprised, and I held back a laugh. "Well now, Mister Donald," I spoke with pretend snobbishness, wagging a lecturing finger at him. "I won't have you expose my pupil to a cold. You're coming with me." I grabbed him by the shoulder, and pushed him inside the house. He didn't know whether to thank me or fear me, but I offered him a kind smile. How could I be mad at the man who brought my dear Daisy such happiness?

We all sat in the living room and Daisy explained the whole affair to me. Months before she was arranged with Gladstone, her father had Donald clean their chimney. Daisy caught him during the cleaning, and when she had tried to clean the soot off of his face, he had barked back that he would get dirty again anyway. They argued, and for reasons I'm still not sure I understand, that lit up romance between the two. Donald would come over every chance he got, and sometimes when Daisy's father wasn't home at night, they'd sneak away to the remains of the forest to be together. During the conversation, they held hands, and Donald would chime in every so often to correct a part of her story, though Daisy would argue that she was right, and every fight wound up with affectionate kisses to the cheek.

"But the wedding is getting closer and closer." Daisy finished her tale with a sad note, hanging her head. "And we don't know what to do… Daddy will never approve of Donald, but I can't marry Gladstone. I don't love him." Donald put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. What he lacked in money he made up for in love, and there was no doubt what these two had was the real thing. Gladstone was a marriage of money and nothing more. My heart wept for Daisy and her circumstances, and I felt implored to help.

I went on my knees before my student, trying to get her to face me. "All fathers love their daughters," I spoke softly, doing my best to assure her as a teacher should. "He cares about your happiness more than getting a few more pennies in his pocket. Explain it to him… and I will back you both up."

This delighted Daisy, grasping my hands in both of hers. "Oh, miss Emily, would you really?"

"Of course. You know I love you more than anything in the world. All I could ever want is your happiness, and if Donald makes you happy, then you must be together." I had barely finished my sentence before Daisy threw her arms around my neck in a tight hug, and I returned the embrace. Donald mumbled a shy thanks in turn, and the cold rain on my skin was warmed by the amount of love the room overflowed with. This was the age of civility, and reason would triumph over greed. I so deeply believed this. The rest of the afternoon was spent in talks of their love, and my love for Keith, and the boundless futures for us all.

I met again with Keith many days later, and I told him of what had happened between my student and the peasant. He was surprised, and he told me that he and the entire police force were on good terms with Daisy's father. "Men like that help us out a lot." He seemed to be trying to word it right so I wouldn't be confused – he made it a habit of dumbing down his conversation for me. "They add extra to our payroll for keeping their families safe… so long as we never discuss it too much." He tapped his nose, indicating that this practice may not have been entirely legal. "I've met Gladstone too. A fine man. I'm sure Miss Daisy will come around." I found it odd that he wasn't on my side about the matter, but I too in turn was sure he would come around. I had no idea just how deep the police would go for that extra payroll.

Winter was fast approaching, and the rain hadn't stopped. Rumors had it that parts of the forest had gotten flooded. I was woken early from my nightmares one morning by insistent pounding on the door. I quickly dressed and was surprised to find Daisy's father at my front door. His face was lined with fury, as I could nearly count his pulsating veins, yet when he spoke it was tranquil. "I need you to come with me right away. There's an urgent matter with my daughter we must all discuss together." I had no idea what he meant, but I thought perhaps Daisy was ill or injured. Worried, I quickly agreed, and followed him, not even having enough time to grab my umbrella.

When we arrived at his house, he slammed the door behind him, and demanded to know how long I had known about Daisy's affair with Donald. With every word he spoke, the tranquility left his voice and replaced it with a fierce angry so frightening I forgot how to speak. I backed up, trying to reason with him, but he accused me of withholding information and trying to corrupt his daughter. He wasn't going to let his daughter waste a good opportunity for trash, he wasn't going to let scum like that ruin her, he would have Donald arrested and killed by the morning, on and on his tirade went. I backed myself into a corner, and from there, I saw Daisy in the living room.

The spirit I so admired in her was gone. She now really was a doll, still and silent, staring straight ahead. I could see fresh bruises on her wrists and one cheek, and I knew if I dared speak up against her father, I would share the same injuries. I choked out apologies as he loomed over me, and cowered before him for mercy. He said I would stay at this house overnight to make sure I wouldn't go and help Donald out, and come the morning, Daisy would marry Gladstone. I just agreed to everything he said, and found myself unable to look at my pupil.

When his tirade was over, I was given a room, and I dared not to leave it. For all my love for Daisy, I could not go against her father. I cried for many hours, lamenting my cowardice and our unhappy fate. Had Keith been giving me a subtle warning? Would he help give Donald a death sentence, for the crime of loving someone outside his class? In one swift day, the happiness I had been so proud of drowned in the cold rain. I didn't eat, and I was too afraid to sleep, thinking somehow the man in red would mock me for trying to be happy.

Night fell, and by then, a tiny bit of my resolve had grown back. Though it would pain me to do so, I wanted to go and see Daisy, to apologize for all that had happened. I waited until I thought her father would be asleep, and crept out of my room. I tip-toed down the stairway, but midway, I heard hushed talking. I recognized the voices – Daisy and Donald. I was amazed to hear from him again, and I pressed myself against the stairwell, trying to see them without being seen myself. They were in front of the fireplace, and the forbidden lovers held hands as they despairingly looked at one another.

Donald had been beaten and blooded to a disgusting degree, and he told her of how the police had grabbed him off the streets and bludgeoned him over and over with pistols and nightsticks, on orders from her father. He managed to fend them off and return a few black eyes, but striking a police officer was itself a death warrant. His left eye was swollen, many feathers had fallen off, and a trace of blood rolled down his head, and Daisy was struggling not to emit loud cries. "I can't live without you," She sobbed, clutching onto his arms, and I forced myself to look away. "If you die… I'll die too! I'd rather die than be with anyone else! I won't leave you!"

Donald could find no words of comfort to give her, and so all he could do was hold her. Hot tears blinded me, knowing that we had run into a hopeless situation. I shook with sadness, and when I thought nothing could make this worse, I heard a rustle from the chimney. I didn't give it too much thought, but the ducks shared a gasp as something - someone – came out from the fireplace, and I heard the voice that had haunted my dreams. "Well now, maybe I can help out."

I caught my breath and prayed that I had misheard. I ever so slowly turned around, but there, there, damn it all, there he was – the mouse in red and black, with golden spider webs and eyes of hellfire, without a trace of ash on him. He was talking casually to the confused ducks, and I didn't hear too much, as I clasped my hands over my ears and rocked my head back and forth in denial. Why was he here? Why now? Was I going to die? But how could I? I wasn't locked in any war, no one had any reason to strike me dead! Yet every time this man appeared, my life ended soon after. His terrible smell, his terrible presence, I felt it grasp my throat and I could not breathe. I was going to die, he was the grim reaper, and all was lost.

But then – only then – did I remember that he first killed the ones I loved. He was here to go after my Daisy – not my Daisy! Every time I had seen him, I had run away, and I so badly wanted to do this time. But I had defied his raven, I could do it again. I would not let him kill Daisy. I forced myself to stand, and I saw that he had already given them his invitations. Forgetting the slumbering temper, I ran towards the group, and shouted in a mix of fear and anger. "You stay away from them!" He wasn't surprised to see me, and looked at me with a calm smile, even as I grabbed him by the collar of his clothes and slammed him to the wall. I heard the ducks cry my name in worry, but I was determined to protect them. I shook and I cried, but I was not going to let him go. "Take your empty promises elsewhere! I won't let you kill them!"

He kept smiling, nonplussed by my threat. "Nice ta see ya too, Emily. Always early ta the party, huh? Wanna wish the newlyweds good luck?"

"Leave them be!" I slapped his face, but no bruise appeared. The touch of his cheek was ice cold, and in fright, I dropped him.

He landed easily enough on his feet, and smoothed down his clothes. "Guess yer not ready ta accept the invitation right. Good thing I'm patient! 'Course, I understand these two." The two numbly looked at the paper envelopes in their hand, unsure of what to think. "I can't until the day I find my sweetheart." He lightly pat his chest, sighing fondly. "But I'm sure she'll come along just fine. I just gotta wait it out. And when I find her, I don't plan on lettin' her go… I'm sure you feel the same way."

I was about to scream at him to shut up, but Donald spoke before me. "I… I do. I feel the same way." He looked to Daisy, and nodded in agreement. "I won't let you go. No matter what." He grabbed her hand, and the two, alike in mind, fled out of the room, heading for the front door.

"Wait, don't!" I yelled after them, knowing a chase would only make things worse. I looked back to the man in red to blame him, but he was gone. It was if he had never appeared in the first place. I stood there, dumbfounded, and then I heard the door slam. The runaway lovers were gone. I knew I had to go after them, but when I stepped out of the room, I heard another door slam open, followed by the angry voice of Daisy's father from the top of the stairs. No doubt my screams had helped waken him up. I rushed to the end of the stairway, hoping to ease his anger, but he was already in a rage. Then, he fell.

Had he tripped? Had some unknown force pushed him? I cannot say. Whatever the reason, he fell over the stairs, and his body twisted with each step, fumbling down until he collapsed in front of me, his neck and head askew. He didn't move, he didn't breathe, and though I did not touch him, I knew he was dead. The rampage of death in this lifetime had already begun. I could not even muster a scream, because I knew who would be next. I ran for the front door, and I saw various police officers going door to door, looking for Donald. Keith was among them. Even then, I still cared for him. But I could not trust him.

I knew where Donald and Daisy would head – the forest, the little getaway for their romantic romps. Keith saw me and called my name, but I ran past him, and the rain drowned out any further shouts for me. They'd find the father's dead body soon, and I had little doubt that they would blame it on Donald too. The forest was damp and murky, as the hard rain had made several small rivers in what space it could be. I saw Daisy's shoes in the wet grass, and a small sense of relief filled me. Surely she was close, and she was okay. I could stop her from accepting the invitation!

I ran faster, but the rain began to blind me, and I fell face first into one of the shallow rivers that appeared overnight. I spat about, trying to regain my balance as I sat on my knees. I rubbed my eyes, and saw a familiar hemline in the river. Without thinking, I grabbed it, and pulled it close to me – sweet Daisy, my Daisy, my dearest friend, my kindest pupil – but when I held her, her arms did not return the favor. I pulled back to lay her in my arms, and she was the final stage of being a doll. She was lifeless.

In the river beside us was Donald, his body face down in the river, and two opened envelopes floating on top of the water. I was too late. They were dead. I howled in anguish, in anger, in everything that we had and everything we lost. I cradled Daisy's body to my chest, rocking her back and forth while I sobbed. How could he have taken them away from me? Why did he do this? What joy did he find in hurting these innocent young ones? I stayed there for the longest time, cradling my student, wishing her eyes would sparkle back to the giddy life she enamored me to.

Eventually, who knows how much time had passed, someone grabbed the back of my hair. It was Keith, and through the storm he was accusing me of drowning the ducks. I opened my mouth to object, but nothing came out. Was it really my fault? Had my arrogance to the red eyed demons spelled out their deaths? Keith continued accusing me and took out his pistol, saying he was going to arrest me for murder. I tried to grab for it – I would not be known for killing someone I cherished! I argued with him, tried to reason with him, we wrestled for the pistol, and between our fighting fingers, it went off.

A hot pain entered my chest, and I fell back into the river. As always, the moment of death begins to blur for me. Was the water spilling into my chest, or was my blood spilling into the water? Was Keith firing more shots at me to ensure my death, or was that just the pounding of the rain? Water filled my nostrils, my ears, my ears, my lungs, my body. I was at once freezing and on fire. It was a long, painful, agonizing death. I know what I saw last.

My Daisy and her Donald, walking away hand in hand, with the man in red at their side. He saw me, and I know exactly what he said, what he had always said at the end.

"See ya next time, Emily."

And that was the third time I died.

**End of Chapter Three.**


	4. Minnie

_Only one more chapter after this! Enjoy the mind-screw!_

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><p>Three lifetimes gone and wasted. I had learned nothing about my tormentor, and there was nothing I could do to escape my prison. In my fourth lifetime, my childhood didn't have a chance as I already understood what my horrific dreams meant. I was already thinking with an adult mind by the time I was ten. I never let myself get attached to anyone, and created a cold atmosphere around me for anyone who dared to try and love me. The man in red would take them away, this I knew. So I never allowed myself to love anyone.<p>

I had grown up in the quiet countryside where community and communication were as important as bread and water. Since I shunned friendship and refused to bond with anyone, I was seen as an unwanted outsider, which was exactly what I wanted. I did absolutely everything on my own, never asking for help and never accepting it when it was offered. I resolved to do everything independently, and by the time I was an actual adult and ready to leave the village, they couldn't be happier to send me off. Was I lonely? Of course. But this pain was nothing compared to the memories of suffering which were firmly locked in my brain.

Due to my insistence on being left alone, my education was severely lacking. I wandered from job to job, from town to town, and my faulty experience made sure I never stayed at the same place for too long. It was just as well, as this way I still didn't make any attachments. I was fighting fate in my own strange fashion, but it would hardly make such a good read if I won so easily, correct? I was nearly reaching thirty when I found the job that would lead me right back to where I started.

I had seen it in the newspaper, an old man looking for a live-in servant to tend to him. I decided to take it up, as such a man who was already so close to death would hardly be worth the man in red's time to take away. I gave him a call and showed up at his manor, which far exceeded my expectations. It was a large, overpowering mansion, enough to house a family of sixty! Why would a man so clearly wealthy only ask for one servant? I probably looked very stupid as I stood at his front door, slack-jawed and starry eyed. Had I gotten the wrong address?

He answered the door himself, and even for a man who was so close to death, there was some handsomeness in his face. His white hair had some faint streaks of original black, and he was a classic gentleman as he courted me inside. There was an angle to walk since his bones weren't what they used to be. We sat in his living room and had a friendly chat as he explained his circumstances. He had recently gotten a granddaughter, and he wanted to make sure she got a wealthy inheritance when it was his time to die. To ensure that, he had started being as cheap as possible, not wanting to waste any money on extra servants. Though he was withered, he seemed to spring with life as he described his little granddaughter, and despite my best efforts, I found myself enjoying his company.

I was hired instantly and moved in with him the very next day. He was very easy to care for, and I had free reign of his house. Some days I would explore his vast library, picking out a book and reading it in his sunny garden. Even though up to that point I refused all company at this point, I allowed myself to grow fond of the old man. The man in red would have no use for him. Even though he had initially made it seem like he was at death's door, we spent many months together like this. It was a happy and peaceful time.

When winter had melted and spring had started to blossom, the old man's daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter came to visit. The parents were very stiff, and treated this visit as more of a business meeting than seeing flesh and blood. They treated me unkindly, snapping at me if I dared to speak out of order. Their daughter, however, was the exact opposite. A darling named Minerva, she couldn't have been more than seven, she liked to follow me around and try to copy whatever it was I was doing at the time. She was absolutely adorable, and I could tell she would be a stunning beauty when she grew up.

How the old man loved his granddaughter! He became a much younger man in her presence, scooping her up and letting her ride on his shoulders, playing games with her and sharing wild stories of his youth. He called her his little Minnie, and I found myself preferring that over her full name. The parents kept trying to interrupt their fun with talks about the inheritance, but it would only be a temporary distraction. Often Minerva would tug my hand and try to get me to play along as well. She was kind, she was sweet, and had I not ensured my life to live without romance, I would have prayed to have someone like her as a daughter. This was also a happy and peaceful time.

The little family stayed together for a handful of weeks before I forced them to leave. The day had started out so warmly, with the sun gently beaming down at the garden. The grandfather was sitting under a tree and letting Minnie pick at petals from blossoming flowers, inventing her own rhymes with them. The parents were inside, going through papers and trying to sort out who would do what with the future inheritance. I was making tea, and after setting the silverware perfectly on a silver tray, I headed out to the garden. I had only taken three steps outside when my happy and peaceful world shattered.

The raven, that damned raven, the one with hellfire eyes and night black feathers, it was in front of little Minnie, watching her steadily and being watched in turn. Fascinated, Minnie sat on her knees on the grass, and reached out to pet the bird. It lowered its head, and Minnie giggled sweetly, enjoying the presence of the unfamiliar animal. "Why, you must be a princess, Minnie." The grandfather chuckled, even though he looked puzzled at how easily the animal acted towards her. "Princesses are friends with all the animals." Charmed by this idea, Minnie stood on her feet and twirled around, pretending to be a lovely princess. The raven hopped around, and then perched itself on her shoulders, as if it belonged there naturally.

Did I scream first, or did I drop the tray first? I'm honestly not sure. But they both happened, and it certainly got their attention. Why was that damned bird here? Was the man in red's blood thirst so unsuitable that it had to go after an innocent child? Did he know I had found happiness and couldn't stand to let me grasp it? Whatever the reason for the bird's presence, I wouldn't let it corrupt little Minnie. I haphazardly ran into the garden, snatching the raven and trying to strangle it, continuing to scream. I told it to leave her alone, leave the whole family alone, and to just let me have some peace! It bit and clawed at me, bloodying my fingers until the pain was too much and I was forced to release it.

It flew away, but the damage had been done. Minnie was crying hysterically, confused and frightened by my sudden display of madness. Her grandfather held her in his arms, demanding to know what had come over me. I wasn't really listening, still looking at the sky. I knew this wouldn't be the last battle between us. The man in red and his servants would return to this place, they always came back to finish the job. But I would not let him get his hands on that innocent child! He could kill me again if he had to, but he would not touch little Minnie! Despite my hardest tries, I had loved the child, and the man in red knew it, and could not let it stand. I had to get her out of this doomed place.

I ran back to the house for I knew where Minnie's parents still were. They hadn't budged from their small office, perhaps ignorant of the screams from outside. I slammed the door open, but gave them no time to shout at me for my impudence. I fell to my knees, begging them to take Minnie away from this place and to never return. I was hysterical, crying and screaming at them, saying Minnie would die if she stayed here, and I grabbed at their clothes, tugged on their hands, knowing I was looking insane but hoping that it would scare them off better for it. They slapped me and demanded to know what I was doing, but I never relented. Eventually they couldn't stand me anymore and left the room, heading back to the grandfather to ask what was going on. I stayed on my hands and knees, able to hear bits and pieces of the confused conversation outside.

To my immense relief, my hysterics had done the job and the parents were taking Minnie away, despite her cries. I knew the grandfather would be pained by this separation, and want a proper explanation from me, but I just couldn't give him one. When I hear the front doors shut, I returned to my room and locked the door, and I laid on my bed, rocking back and forth in a curled up position. The grandfather pounded on my door, wanting to know what I had done and why. I said nothing, and continued to rock, my hands pained again. I had done the right thing. I had stopped the man in red. I was finally victorious. If I didn't believe this things, I would have taken a kitchen knife to my neck.

The grandfather died two weeks later, sound asleep in his bed. When I found him, he looked so peaceful, and as I began to pull back the bed sheets, I mentally began to prepare the funeral. But midway I stopped as a sickening revelation came to me. If I told the family that he had died, if a funeral came, then that might mean Minnie had a chance of returning to his cursed place. The man in red would take her away and end her life. Still crazed with fear, I knew I couldn't risk the two of them meeting again. I silently pulled the covers back up, and stared at the dead body. Though his soul was gone from this world, his role in life was not yet over. I would have to play a long game of make believe in order to protect the child.

It's said the truly insane people do not know what they do is insane. So I couldn't have been insane, for I knew my actions were not of a well person. That makes sense, doesn't it? I did all of his paperwork, I signed his letters and made his calls, acting as his secretary and keeping up the charade that he still lived in that large house. I locked his bedroom door, but as time passed, the smell of decomposing flesh still managed to wade its way throughout every single room. It was a constant reminder of my lies, and of my fight. But I refused to leave and admit what had happened. I was not going to let the man in red win. For everything I had lost in my past lifetimes, for the loves that I had to lose and the innocence that was destroyed, I was not going to let that demonic thing win!

I stayed for years in that house of rotten flesh, suffering nightmares of my past existence, and soon time lost its meaning for me. I couldn't tell when the day started or ended, and I would wander in and out of every room, replaying my past lives and trying to see what I could have done differently to save the lives of those I cared for. Soon I couldn't stand my own appearance, this haggard woman who had lost her beauty to the charade of a dead man, and I smashed every mirror with a candlestick. This act of destruction oddly smoothed me, and I delighted in pushing over bookshelves one day and tearing apart curtains the next. I would have conversations with the grandfather's corpse, knowing he wouldn't respond but gleefully telling him that his granddaughter was safe. I was a good girl. I had protected her.

This escalating descent into oblivion could have continued for the rest of my pitiful years, but one day after so many years, I came upon a treasure that would undo my work. I was doing my daily destructions, taking the fireplace poker and savagely attacking one of the desks in his office, but during my round of cathartic chaos, one of the drawers fell out. Inside was a small bracelet, laced with gold and silver, and a withered piece of paper laid underneath it. I took it out, and read. It had been written by the grandfather, and this was going to be a gift for Minnie for when the day came of her eventual wedding. He had wanted to be a part of her life even when he was no longer part of this world.

I read and reread the few sentences there as hot tears poured down my dirty cheeks. Even after all this time, my heart still beat for the kind old man and his innocent granddaughter. I stayed there and wept as I remembered the fond times in the garden as he weaved his stories and she danced in the flowers. In trying to protect her, I had denied myself a life. Had I ever been happy since that time?

I wiped my face and decided I could grant little Minnie one more memory of her beloved grandfather. I cleaned myself up, packed up some things for small travel, and for the first time in years, left the house. For a moment I stood in the sun, having forgotten how the wind felt and what chatter of townspeople could sound like. I paid for a carriage to take me to the town where Minnie and her parents resided, but when we had almost arrived, one of the horses got a stone in its shoe. I didn't mind, since the rest of the way was only a short walk. Paying the carriage driver more than that was necessary, I walked on ahead, musing to myself that Minnie might be a beautiful young lady by now.

It was late at night as I walked through the quiet town. I had memorized the number of Minnie's home, but all the buildings seem to blend together in depressing shades of gray and brown. Her parents may have been upset that I was coming at such an hour, but all I wanted to do was give them the bracelet and the note. With that, I could be at peace. I would not allow myself to think of what I would have to say if they asked about the grandfather. My footsteps seemed to echo into the empty night.

I found his carriage first.

That carriage – the black carriage, the carriage of death, the one I had seen lifetimes before, with the black horses with their red eyes – when did I start screaming? My suitcase dropped to the ground as all three lifetimes flooded through my eyes at once, for I knew who was riding in that carriage. Why? Why was he here? I had sent her away! I had protected her! Why was he there? Why, why, why, why had everything I had done turned to nothing!

I heard a door open, and across the way stood my little Minnie. She was no longer so little, and just as I thought, she had grown into a beautiful young woman. She was wearing a pure white nightgown and small ribbons in her fur, and I wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in my arms and shield her from the horror that had stopped at her front door. But she didn't see me or hear my screams. She ran for the carriage, with its door wide open, and climbed in without a second of hesitation. The door slammed shut. I was too late.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, nooooo!" I don't know how many times I repeated it as I saw the wheels of the carriage move and the unnatural horses went forward. Had I truly gone through those years of isolation for no reward? Had my sweet Minnie been denied learning the truth about her grandfather for no purpose at all? The man in red had no right to do this to her! He had no right to do this to me! I would not let him! She was coming home! I would take her home and he would not stop me! I began to run after the carriage, thinking somehow, someway, I would catch up. I would save her!

I ran as fast I could, abandoning my shoes and sprinting through the lonely night. Of course I lost sight of the faster vehicle, but I kept running in the same direction, out of the town and into a forest that that surrounded me before I realized it. Yet I still persisted, allowing passing branches to claw at my skin and harsh cold to slap my face. I ran and ran and ran even as my legs screeched for mercy and my muscles gave out. I would not stop until I saw my Minnie and took her home where she belonged. I made it out of the forest and was met with a scream that for once was not my own.

First I saw the mansion. It was so tall that it seemed to defy the heavens above, beautiful in a terrifying way. The rooms and windows were endless, with menacing gargoyles perched protectively at corners. Yet for every time I blinked, the house changed in small ways. In one moment one room had the curtains wide open, and I thought I saw the shadows of dancers, but when my eyes opened again, the room never existed, and that was only a wall of red. Long grass touched my feet, and gravestones decorated the dirt, and I could not remember when I had passed a gate of black iron. There was no other home or land save for this mansion, and anywhere I could look, the mansion took up space. It defied all logic and physics but there it was, and I could not even find the forest from which I had emerged.

I have had a long time to go over this memory and detail that which I have said. But in that moment, I paid attention to none of that. The man who had been screaming was Minnie's father, and though time had aged him, I easily recognized him, even as he was going through an impossible horror. A shadow had covered his body, and arms of the shadow were grabbing at him and pulling him under. They grabbed and clung to every part of him, and even though they covered his mouth I heard him scream in my mind. They pulled at him, further and further down into the shadow, until he was gone, and all that was left was a small pistol on the ground. The shadow itself now was just a reflection of darkness, the moon casting its glow over those who stood in front of the mansion.

My faithful pup Pluto. My kind warrior Goofy. My sweet student Daisy. My noble fighter Donald. Now my Minnie was them, her clothes of a servant, her eyes the same hell red that they all shared. I really was too late. They didn't even seem to notice me, as Minnie lovingly faced the man in red, smiling with the strength of a wife's love. "I owe you a dance, Master."

He linked arms with her. "As long as you let me lead, my Minnie."

I was no longer thinking but acting. I raced forward, and grabbed the pistol from the ground. I didn't understand what had happened to her father, but I fired the pistol anyway. It clicked emptily, but it still got their attention. Those faces that had once smiled at me with friendship and care now saw me as an annoyance, almost bored with my appearance. Again I cried, again I screamed, and again I shot, even as nothing led to a resolution. "Why!" I demanded of the man in red, as he watched me with disinterest. "Why do you keep doing this to me? Why do you keep taking everyone I love? Why do you continue to haunt me? Just tell me why you had to take them away from me! Why, why, why!"

The man in red sighed, and then gave Minnie a quick but still tender kiss on the cheek. "That dance will have ta wait a bit." She merely nodded in understanding. He tucked his hands into his pockets, strolling casually up to me. "Yanno, this has been fun… but now it's gettin' ta be a bit much. Ya really think they belong ta ya? That ya own them?" He clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head. "But I guess that's what ya have always been good at… takin' things that don't belong ta ya."

Anger became stronger than my fear. How dare he say such things! Was he really trying to remove all blame from himself and make what had happened my fault? The arrogance of this monster! Even through my blurry tears I could still see his aggravating expression. "I'm taking her back home where she belongs! I won't let you ruin my life again! I deserve to be happy! I deserve to live! I deserve everything that you've stolen from me!"

He tilted his head up and looked me directly in the eyes. For a short second of time, I could see myself reflected in the color I had grown to be terrified of. But I didn't look like myself. Who was this woman? Why was she in the same position I was? The man in red replied to me without noticing or caring about my pause. "It's about time ya woke up, Constance."

Constance? Who was Constance? My cheek twitched, and I let out a strangled giggle. After all this time tormenting me, he couldn't even get my name right? "My name is Emily! You of all people should know that! You keep telling me, 'I'll see you next time, Emily'!"

He raised his eyebrows in what I thought was mock surprise. "I've never said that."

Let him lie, what did he care? He was enjoying my torture, and was doing everything in his power to hurt me. "My name is Emily! My name is Emily! My… name… is…" I started giggling again, even though nothing was funny. I held the pistol against my head, feeling the cold metal press past my hair and into my skin. "_Emily_!" I don't know why only now a bullet found its way out, or it had even been there until just that moment. I fired.

And that was the fourth time I died… I think.

**End of Chapter Four.**


	5. Emily

_Welcome to the last chapter! I hope you've enjoyed the strange ride._

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><p>Of course by now you're wondering what I meant when I said I think I died. It's one of the few points I'm trying to debate over in my mind because I'm not sure. That bullet went through my brain, I fell and bled and the world did grow dark. Yet my eyes opened again mere minutes later, and I still laid there among the gravestones and grass of the mansion. Whether that counts as death or not is still confusing. But we can always come back to that issue another time. Let's return to when I woke up.<p>

When my eyes opened, the puddle of blood and bits of my brain were gone, as were the residents of the mansion. I was all alone. They must have gone back inside to resume their dance. But if I hadn't passed over to the next lifetime, then that had to mean I still had a chance to fix things! I could take Minnie back home and end this cycle! I rose to my feet, and stumbled towards the mansion. Yes, it was large, and the rooms appeared endless, but I still thought I could find her. No ration or reason came to me, just the thought of finding her and giving myself peace. I pushed the front door in and waded in through pitch black darkness.

There was silence all around me, and yet as I passed wallpaper and curtains there was definitely a presence. A feeling that I was not alone, and that I was being watched by things behind the wall. I tried to feel my way forward, and came into a room with paintings high above me. A girl on a tightrope, silly men on top of each other, and other cute qualities of art, yet as soon as I began to admire them, they began to change. The walls began to stretch up and away from me even though I stayed in place and the pictures were longer – the tightrope girl was above a crocodile, the men sinking into quicksand – and even though I had entered the room, there were no doors around me. I pounded at the walls, demanding to be let out.

"Ya want out, Constance?"

His voice, his damned voice, I could hear him but not see him. I looked up again, and saw something swaying back and forth in front of a window I could never touch. "My name is Emily! And how do I get out of this room?"

"It's easy… ya go out the same way ya came in."

Lightning flashed from the window and I could see the swaying object – a noose. Though it was far beyond me, I could feel it scratching on my neck, and again I screamed, pushing against the walls until I melted my way through them, scrambling through the hallways again. Directions and balance were lost to me, north was west, down was up, left and right didn't exist. Had minutes passed in my run, or seconds, or days? I could not tell and yet I was already in another room, the doors slamming shut behind me.

A macabre dining room was in place, and ghostly dancers were spinning back and forth as the smell of rotting food wafted through the atmosphere. The other rooms had been fresh and tidy, but this one had decaying cobwebs and peeled paint on the walls. I could have easily been frightened again, but I saw him, I saw the man in red, dancing with my little Minnie. "Get away from her!" I snatched a rusty knife off of the table, and raced toward them, determined to snatch back what belonged to me. They knew I was coming, and yet did not bother to dodge my stab. I thrusted the knife into his chest, and it merged with him like I had just tried to slice through warm butter.

The man in red looked up at me, still annoyed. "Can't ya at least wait until I'm dancin' with my wife?" Minnie tenderly laid her head on his shoulder.

"She doesn't love you!" I pulled back the knife, unsure of how to separate them if weaponry wouldn't work. I could an organ playing music a familiar tune that I didn't want to hear. "You tricked her, like you tricked all of them! Who could ever love a monster like you?" Minnie appeared to take offense to that, casting me a glare as she nuzzled her nose affectionately to his cheek. He still wasn't offended.

Instead, of all things he smiled at me. "Who indeed… who could ever love a monster?" The way he sounded, his tone, it was like he was firing it right back at me, daring to accuse me of the same thing.

"How dare you!" I tried to claw my hands at his throat, but again, I could not truly touch him, no matter how much or how hard I tried. "I had Johan, I had the king, I had the officer, I was loved so much, and yet you continued to take them away from me! I'm not the monster, you are! Give them back to me! Give them all back!"

He shrugged, indifferent to my pleas, fondly tickling Minnie under the chin with a few fingers. "Ya think she'd be a little quieter at a weddin' party. Some manners, huh?"

I was going to scream at him more when I felt a firm hand grasp at my shoulder, and I turned around, intending to use the same knife to slice at their throat. But the knife was gone as I turned, and who had touched me was not only of the dead dancers. It was Minnie's mother, smiling kindly at me for the first time since I had known her. "Constance, we're so glad you could make it. This will mean the world to Emily."

I tried to ask her what she was walking about, but I couldn't speak. A weight was in my throat, preventing me from forming any words, but I could still move and see. I moved, and I saw, the decrepit room was no more. I was in a fully furnished and beautiful dining room, having never aged a day, filled with living people that were celebrating with fresh wine. I knew them all! The soldiers from the king's army, the other officers from Daisy's hometown, past villagers, friends, enemies, they all talked and danced without a care in the world. Didn't they know who they were? Didn't they recognize me for who I was? I opened my mouth to yell yet again nothing came of it.

"I know things must have been hard…" Minnie's mother continued, ignoring my abject terror. "What with your husband's passing, and… well… everyone after." She bit her lip, unsure of how to speak delicately of subjects I didn't know she was discussing. "But maybe some of Emily's good fortune will rub off on you. I think she's doing some last minute touch-ups in the attic… why don't you go see her?"

What was she babbling about? I was Emily! I have always been Emily! In every lifetime, that has been a constant, my name has been Emily! I staggered backwards out of the room, knowing I had to find this imposter. She had to be in league with the man in red! Yes, that had to be! They were stealing all of my lives away from me! I quietly made my way through the mansion, which was now as normal as any home could be – no presence, no stretching paintings, no organ – and I found the way to the attic. The wood under my feet creaked, and yet the girl I saw in the distance acted as if I hadn't arrived.

In an enchantingly made wedding dress, she stood with her back to me, admiring her reflection in a tall vanity mirror. I could see her face – my face! This witch had stolen everything from me, including my face! Yet I could also see my face in there, and it had changed! Just how I seen my face reflected in the eyes of the man in red. What had they done to me? Who was this person?

She spoke with my voice, giggled my giggle, this harpy knew I was there and enjoyed my disgust. "Constance… this is like a dream come true. In just a few moments, I'm going to be married to the perfect man. Is this what you felt like? I just want to feel this way forever!" She was so happy, she was stealing my happiness. I had to stop her. I would no lot myself be a victim anymore. Then I spotted it, resting against a wall… an axe. A simple axe, abandoned to time, and waiting for me. I knew what had to be done.

Obviously this girl wasn't me, because I would have defended myself better. She didn't even raise her arms as I drove that axe into her back. She was stubborn, though, refusing to give back what was mine. So I kept striking her, trying to make her face turn back, but no matter how hard I hit her, she wouldn't abandon my body. When the witch was finally dead, I was still left with that problem. How was I going to convince everyone I was Emily when she had made us switch bodies?

Well, if this was Emily's wedding, then that meant it was really my wedding. Her wedding dress was my wedding dress. I hastily forced it off of her body and wore it, blood stains and all. I could hear the music changing from down below, so the wedding in the mansion must have started. I would go down and show everyone the real Emily. I kept the axe with me, in case the man in red decided to tell anyone otherwise. I left the room, and followed the music, as the wedding was taking place in the living room. Everyone looked so surprised to see me. Some started screaming.

They must have seen that I was the real Emily now. These were all my friends. These were all my family. I slowly walked down the aisle, all of their eyes on me, forever. Some of them had tried to disguise themselves, but I knew who they really were. Pluto my dear pup, snarling near the priest. Even though the colors of his fur had changed I knew he was my sweet Pluto. The others had gone even further in their disguises, trying to be humans. But I knew them, I loved them so much that I knew who they really were.

Goofy, standing tall and lanky in a nice suit, playing the role of best man, but I knew him to be my Goofy. Donald and Daisy, trying to be best friends of the groom and bride, but I knew them to be the forbidden lovers with feathers. Even precious Minnie was playing this warped game, trying to be Emily's little sister, but she would always be my Minnie. My beloved friends and family, we were all together again, and now I would let no one take them away. But what of the groom?

I saw his face, and in it there were traits of every man I had ever loved there. Could he have all of their love within his one heart? I reached out to him, but he mistakenly called me Constance. It was then repeated like an echo by everyone in the room – Constance, Constance, Constance. I told them I was Emily, but they kept saying that other woman's name. It was an escalating mantra, Constance, they kept calling for her, Constance, I had to make them shut up, Constance, and I had to make them pay for this mistake, Constance, and I started with the groom.

It wasn't my fault. They just wouldn't recognize me no matter what I did. Anyone who called me Constance had to be stopped. So I swung, and I stroke, and I would not let anyone escape until they called me Emily. Emily's sister – my sister – my Minnie – she was in league with them, calling me Constance, and I as I made her stop, I saw that the man in red was still with her, but he too had disguised himself. Now he was a little toy in her hands, a plush mouse that she had gotten from her father – our father – as he traveled the world. It was all his fault! I told everyone that, but no one listened.

Even with so many people taken cared of, some had managed to escape. I couldn't let them do that, I couldn't let them go out and tell other people these lies about Emily and Constance. I followed them out, because they needed to be punished. They all needed to be punished for what they had done to me.

Isn't it so terrible of people to take someone so loved and warp them? To use their imaginations to make them into something the exact opposite, for their own sick pleasure? To take the innocent and make them dark, just to see what the outside reaction will be? Those kinds of people are the worst. They don't deserve to live.

I wandered out into the hall, but the nicely decorated home of the wedding was gone, and again I was in the home of the man in red. Yet I knew those who spoke of my false name were there, so I kept up the chase. I knew I'd find them and make them pay. That's when my hunt officially began. I don't know how long it's been since then, but I've long since stopped caring. I still haven't found every liar. Even worse, there are newcomers to this place who still use the wrong name. They too must be punished.

One day I'll find the man in red and I'll have him make everyone call me Emily. I haven't seen him since that day, but I know he's still around, watching me, mocking me, calling me Constance. He has my Pluto, my Goofy, my Donald, my Daisy, and my Minnie. They didn't believe me, but I know you must do. After all, I've told you everything. So you're going to call me Emily, aren't you?

I'm Emily. I will always be Emily. Constance will never replace me. So you should call me Emily.

Aren't you going to call me Emily?

I'm Emily! I'm Emily! I'm Emily!

_Call me Emily!_

**The End.**

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><p><em>Before I send you on your way, I thought you'd like some disney trivia. Beating Heart Bride Emily was the original Ghost Bride in the Haunted Mansion ride in Disneyworld. However, she was eventually replaced by 'Constance', who killed all of her husbands for their wealth, and can be seen wielding an axe as you pass her by. I wonder if she too will ever be replaced someday?<em>**  
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